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Magoza
"It's like a sense y'know? You lose one arm, and the other one gets stronger to make up for it." -Magoza History Like many half-orcs in orc tribes, Magoza was exposed to a particularly harsh sort of upbringing. Her father resented her for being a half-breed (even though it was he that took her elven mother), and her chieftain worried that she might one day try to take his throne. When she reached the age of 9 her life had been nearly lost no less than two dozen times. When she happened upon a foreign ship on her shores, she decided that this would be the last time she risked her life for her tribe. Being a clever girl, Magoza took the news of a well stocked vessel back to her chieftain. Some shade was thrown, and Magoza got herself a raiding party (along with a swift back hand to the face). The party was no match for the thunderous flintlock weaponry of the foreigners, but Magoza only cared that her plan would work. While they were distracted by her dying brothers and sisters, Magoza snuck aboard the ship and hid below deck. Surely her chieftain would take the news that the party was slaughtered with some bit of solace. Either the uppity little half-breed was dead, or she was so disgraced that she could never return. Either way, Magoza knew they wouldn't bother coming to find her. It wasn't long before the traders found her though. They noticed quickly when their food started going missing, and a large half-orc creaked the boards under her feet. These traders were not entirely without heart though. Upon finding out what she had done, they rewarded her cunning or ruthlessness with a choice. She could die by way of the crushing depths, or she could work to pay off the debt she had accrued by eating their food and boarding their vessel. Some days, Magoza had wished that she took the former option. It wasn't for another 3 years that the crew started to treat her like a member rather than a slave. Of course, the difference wasn't terribly clear to a twelve year old half-orc. In time though, she began to forget what exactly life was like before boarding the foreign vessel. Land felt almost foreign to her, and the few times that she was permitted to go ashore with the rest of the crew she felt an odd sense of being out of place. This didn't stop her from being a difficult bitch when she went back to duty though. It was in one of these very instances of defiance that changed her life forever. The ship was escorting a drow noble. With the majority of the crew being male, and the drow's propensity towards eating men alive (or at least that's what they kept whispering to each other late at night in the bunks), Magoza was selected to deliver the dark elf's food. Believing all rumor of how this woman must've been a horrid monster, Magoza callously dropped the plate in front of the drow. But a single speck of a single drop of the stew managed to come loose of the bowl and land on the drow's sleeve. The drow simply said to the captain, "It has ruined my sleeve. It would be no more damage to remove the arm of my dress than to suffer as I have by the incompetent hand of your foul beast. Have its arm removed the same." Magoza's memory did not serve her well for the following weeks. Fearing what the drow would do if he did not heed her request, he had Magoza held down, and her left arm removed. They say that it was tossed to the fishes, and that she screamed all manner of curse upon the drow, but Magoza only remembers a hot haze. A hot haze and prayers. While she was left to heal and fight off infection, Magoza let loose a prayer to any god that would listen. She begged for mercy. She begged for help. One day she would string curses together hoping that any foul beast from the lower depths would rise up to claw the drow bitch down to Hell or the Abyss. The next she would sob only wishing that she had stayed at home in her simple tribe. Still the next she prayed to let it end and just be taken to the Boneyard. None of these things came to pass. When finally her fever broke, she was greeted by her fellow crew mates. They all waited with bated breath hoping that she would make it through. Even the captain was relieved to hear that the half-orc stowaway had made it through. In that moment Magoza didn't feel anger, or hatred, or betrayal. She felt at home with her crew. The one prayer that seemed to have been answered was for her suffering to end; and that prayer went out to the Pirate Queen. In her mind she thanked Besmara for bringing her back to her crew. To her surprise, she heard an answer. The voice in her head was that of a spirit. In life he was a proud elven warrior, but was captured by the very same drow and tortured for decades. His flesh was warped and all sorts of poisons were tested on him. None were quite enough to be fatal, but merely an amount of agony that made him yearn for the end. When one day he had the chance, he took his own life and began to sink towards the Negative Energy Plane. His anger was great though, and the desire for revenge kept him afloat. It brought him back to the material plane where he found a young woman that was tortured by the same vile drow. He offered Magoza his strength, and she gladly took it. When she asked his name, he could not remember it. He could only remember his burning hatred for the monster that made his final days utter agony. So Magoza gave him a new name: Armuel. To which the spirit promptly "threw a bitch fit" according to Magoza. Shortly after Magoza took up permanent residence in the capital city of the foreigner's continent. She perfected her craft of boat making. Defying expectation, she engaged in adventure when she could; seemingly confused by other people's astonishment at what the girl could do with only one arm. She acquired a significant amount of wealth from her adventures, and it was enough to begin a small business empire. All of this would seemingly be for naught though. One day when she was leading her pirate crew on an assault against vessel that didn't bother stopping into her fine city to trade, a storm came in. Magoza could swear that there were purple lightning bolts, and some great beast in those black clouds, but things were hectic enough that there was no way to tell for certain. Her boat went under, and with it most of her crew. She swam to what she thought was the shore of her city only to find the docs were all in the wrong places, and the building's had changed. Dragging herself out of the water onto the shore she was greeted by an old man, "Welcome to Fiend's Reach lass, I'spouse yee'd be a bit confused 'bouts how ye got here. Weel c'malong then. I'll setcha down next to a warm fire and getcha a drink then maybe answer some of yer questions. Name's Douglas by the way." Appearance Calling Magoza a large half-orc would be an understatement. Standing at just over 7 feet tall, Magoza is made mostly of muscle. She has spent most of her life in physical exertion, and the loss of her arm hasn't slowed her down one bit. She has black hair in contrast to her light green skin color. Her brown eyes hold a deep contemplation behind them. She has a brand on her chest just below the collar bone marking her time as an indentured servant. When asked why she never got it removed, Magoza likes to keep it as a reminder of... well not good times, but times nonetheless. Across the rest of her chest and on her back are intricate tribal tattoos that glow with a strange florescence in the moonlight. Her tribe told her that these marks would keep her safe. She just thinks that they look cool as hell. Most often she is seen wearing her favorite set of magical breastplate adorned with the Jolly Roger, and a purple sash around her neck. She is never seen wielding a manufactured weapon, opting instead to use her now massive fist. When the need arises, Magoza has been known to take a toxic tonic of her own devising. When she does so, etheric tubes burrow into her arm and begin pumping spiritual energy from what looks to be the base of her skull. Her skin thickens and muscles bulge to give her added strength, durability, and lethality. Personality Magoza is often a very cheery individual. Despite her hardships she has learned to let things go. She often finds herself assuming the best in people, or at the very least failing to consider the very worst. Her outlook has helped her move past the lack of one of her arms, and made her all the stronger for it. Her social graces on the other hand could use quite a bit of work. She is not one to think about the repricutions of her words before she utters them. Instead she is more likely to apologize for asking about your "ugly ass scar" than she is to think that someone would be offened by such a description. When it comes to a code of conduct, Magoza lives by a fairly simple one. Only do what you can live with doing. Because of this she avoids taking a life whenever she can, never backs down when her allies are at risk, and refuses to abide by slavery. She'd rather live for a short time, than try to live with the guilt of knowing that she could have done better. Friends Magoza had a number of friends in the world she came from. Now that she's in Fiend's Reach, she doesn't really have any. Like most adventurers, she counts the friendly tavern owner Douglas as a friend, as does Douglas consider most washashores his. Enemies So far Magoza has failed to find anyone that pisses her off enough that she'd call them her enemy. Now the reverse cannot be said to be true, but Magoza certainly wouldn't know. Aspirations Magoza's greatest aspiration is to simply be free. Her second greatest aspiration is to adventure. She's heard stories of Besmara running raids on the Abyss, and hopes one day to do the same. Her third greatest aspiration is to do what her father and chieftan could not do, which was run a tribe in such a way that all of its members call it home. To do this though, she'll need to rebuild her business empire here in Fiend's Reach. Oh, and to punch stuff real good. Magoza's favorite activity; for which she can only get better. Category:Character